


Underneath

by HarperJean



Series: Anthology Series [3]
Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Band Breaks Up, Alternate Universe - Deep Sea, Alternate Universe - Post Office, Anthology, F/M, Gen, Marriage Proposal, New York City, Underneath, catapult, crack ship, gravity - Freeform, x-files
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarperJean/pseuds/HarperJean
Summary: Part Three of the Anthology Series. One story for every song.
Relationships: Isaac Hanson/Original Female Character(s), Michelle Branch/Taylor Hanson, Natalie Hanson/Taylor Hanson, Taylor Hanson/Original Female Character(s), Zac Hanson/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Anthology Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1120176
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Strong Enough To Break

Letter after letter. A snowstorm of envelopes. Flurries collecting into open mouthed canvas carts. The occasional flash of color but mostly white.

Nothing ever changed.

Taylor glanced at the yellowed calendar on the wall. No one had ever bothered to change it, which seemed fitting. Since his very first day in the dismal mail room, he’d seen the calendar as a harbinger of doom. In the mail room, time would halt. It would be June 1987 forever.

The sound of the sorter normally drowned out any thoughts that might swim free. He looked down to discover it had stopped. He hit it a couple times with his heavy open hand, but nothing happened. He walked around to other side and opened the access panel, sure there would be a massive jam which would demand his attention for the rest of the day. He wasn’t sure if he was irritated or relieved for the distraction.

The large panel popped off easily and he surveyed the gears for a jam. 

Nothing. He poked around a bit more, but lacked the expertise to diagnose the issue. He sighed heavily and steadied himself for the next step.

“Rick?” He waited for a reply, his voice echoing down the hall. “Rick, the sorter.”

Rick’s voice entered the room before his body. Taylor was certain the temperature dropped twenty degrees upon his arrival.

“You break my machine, Hanson?”

“Did I…? No! It just stopped.”

“Well, what did you do to it?” Rick lugged his hulking frame around the sorter, barely looking at it. “The thing doesn’t just stop. You must have done something.”

Taylor glared at his boss, all ruddy faced and clogged with cholesterol. Rick stared back with an expression of accusation. How many times had then been here? The calendar sagged on the wall, feeling like another source of judgement. 

Something snapped.

“Rick, I didn’t do shit to your stupid machine. Maybe if you had it professionally cleaned or tuned once in a while, it wouldn’t break down every other week.”

Taylor felt his face flush. He couldn’t believe his own words. Still, the liberation he felt made him high. He’d been holding it all in for so long that letting it out made him lightheaded.  
“You watch yourself, Hanson. Don’t say anything you can’t take back.” Rick was out of breath. He held onto his temper with every fiber of his being. Taylor could see the blood boiling in his veins, popping out of his neck and forehead. 

No going back now.

“You know what Rick? For seven years, I’ve worked here under your pathetic excuse for management. I’ve convinced myself that if I just worked hard enough and kept my head down, one day it would all be worth it.” Rick dabbed his head with a tissue, unable to form words in his indignation. “Well, it's not.”

“Not what?” Rick blubbered.

“Worth it! It’s not worth it.” Taylor chuckled a bit. “I quit, Rick. Fix your own damn machine.” He crossed the room in one long stride, ripped the calendar from the wall and marched out of the mail room.

He got halfway down the hall before the fear set in. He had no job lined up, no savings and no one to call on for help. He had no idea what would come next. Still, he had finally done it and there was no going back. He traversed the rest of the hallway and climbed the stairs which led to the shipping floor. 

The sunlight was shocking against the backdrop of his impending panic attack. No one even looked up to see him stomp toward the back door. He had no desire to say goodbye or make a scene. He just wanted to get out of there before he let his fear change his mind.

The door handle was cold in his hand as he prepared himself to exit and never look back. He was so focused on the finality he almost missed the loud pop pop pop from the front counter.

Instinctively, Taylor ducked and covered his head. The sound rang out again and this time it was followed by a piercing scream. He looked under his arm toward the front and locked eyes with Wanda, who was crouched behind a shelving unit, eyes wide and tearful.

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND!”

Whoever was giving the orders had a booming voice and was moving closer. Taylor thought about bolting through the back door and running for the hills. Across from him, he heard a scuffle and looked back to Wanda, who had scurried away to hide behind another shelf.

The popping sound exploded again, much closer. A shelf toppled, sending mail into the air all around. Taylor looked up at the ceiling still clutching the calendar under his arm.

Letter after letter. A snowstorm of envelopes. Flurries tumbling toward him in a blizzard of white.

Everything had changed.


	2. Dancing In The Wind

Taylor could think of a lot of words that came to mind when he saw Natalie, but fear was never one of them. And yet, sitting with her on a park bench, it was the only emotion that his brain could think to name. He was afraid. Their gloved hands restricted them from lacing their fingers together. It was sunny, but the wind was ice cold. There was still a bit of snow on the ground in Newnan; Natalie had already commented on how it had been a cold winter, and that she was glad the sun was out and everything was just beginning to thaw. 

“Spring is my favorite season,” she said, the quiver in her voice almost imperceptible. 

Taylor barely heard her. He felt like he was underwater. 

A week earlier, Taylor had gotten a call from Natalie telling him she was pregnant. He was under a month shy of turning nineteen. When he heard the news, he felt his knees buckle. The first person he had told was his older brother, not knowing where else to turn. Ike had been supportive, insisting that no matter what happened, he would always at least have himself and Zac behind him, every step of the way. So why did he feel so alone? 

When he told his parents, there was only one option. Marry the girl as soon as possible. Find a ring, fly to Georgia, and propose. They could get married in the early summer, before she started to show, and have the baby in October. This kind of thing happened all the time. If they played their cards right, no one would blink an eye, as long as both Taylor and Natalie made it seem like this was the plan all along. 

The trouble was, Taylor had no intentions of marrying Natalie before this very moment. He could feel the tiny ring box in his pocket, pressing against his leg, a constant reminder of the task at hand. Natalie was sweet and kind, and he did enjoy spending time with her, but it’s not like he was in love with her. He wasn’t in love with anyone. He was only eighteen. And he was terrified. 

He looked at Natalie for comfort but found none. In the winter sunlight, she looked exposed. Her hair was pulled into braided pigtails, making her look even younger than she was. She was wearing a pink, puffy jacket and bright sneakers, but the happy colors of her outfit did nothing to hide the shame that seemed to radiate off of her skin. 

“Hey, Taylor?” She said softly, not looking up from the steadfast gaze she had on her shoes. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m um...I’m scared shitless.” 

Taylor couldn’t help but let out a yelp of laughter. Natalie rarely ever cursed, and the fact that she just had while so succinctly summing up how he was also feeling made some of the tension release between them. “Yeah, me too.” 

“I don’t know how to do this.” 

He squeezed her hand in an attempt to be comforting. 

“Me either.” 

They sat there together in silence, trying to piece together what their future looked like in their heads. It all seemed so ridiculous. They were kids, right? Natalie hadn’t even graduated. 

A huge gust of wind blew their hair in their faces. 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Natalie stated, clearly giving up on her modest vocabulary. 

Taylor inched towards her and put an arm around her. To a passerby, they probably just looked like a high school couple stealing a cuddle on a bench, not two people about to start a life together. The wind continued. Taylor closed his eyes against it and buried his head into Natalie’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. 

“What?” 

“It’s okay. It’s...it’s okay. We uh...we have each other.” 

Natalie looked at him for the first time since they sat down. She had tears in her eyes, but he couldn’t tell if she was crying or if her eyes were watering from the icy breeze. Either way, he figured it was time to get it over with. He dug the box out of his pocket. 

“I know this isn’t like, super romantic, but I don’t think we’re being given much of a choice.” 

Natalie looked down at the simple ring and smiled sadly. She took her left glove off and held out her hand to Taylor, who slipped the ring on. 

“What if we mess it up?” She asked timidly, still looking down at her new jewelry. 

“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out, okay?” Taylor could hear his own voice wavering at this point. He put both arms around Natalie and brought her close. 

“Don’t leave me, Taylor. Please just don’t go away. I can’t do this by myself.” He felt the sobs erupt from under the puffy jacket and squeezed her tightly. 

“I won’t.” He said. If he had to pretend to be strong for her he would. At least for today. And then again tomorrow. And then again. And again.


	3. Penny and Me

You step off of the plane in New York City and the air itself feels different. There’s electricity to it, somehow. It’s charged with memories that are not yours, but they descend down on you from the millions of city lights masquerading as stars. It feels wrong without her, but maybe someday it won’t…someday when you stop looking for her on the street or in the window of a passing subway car. Someday when you get used to the loneliness that only a bustling city full of strangers can bring. 

Life here is quick; you don’t have time to stroll listlessly down the sidewalk thinking up melancholy lyrics. You haul your guitar case to every bar that will let you sit and sing for a few hours, happy to work for beer or possibly something harder. You sing about every moment you ever had together. About the lemonade she used to drink in the summer when the air conditioning broke and all you had was the squeaky ceiling fan. About the days you spent running away with only unsung songs on our lips until the pink moon rose and you had to go home so that your parents wouldn’t worry too much. About the time you tumbled into her room, falling on the stained rug laughing so hard you forgot how to breathe. She gripped the sides of her leopard print chair, unable to regain her composure before breaking out in another round of laughter. You’re not even sure what you were laughing about. 

You sing cover songs in her honor, “Penny Lane” and “Feeling Alright” in the bars you wished you were frequenting with her, instead of alone. You wonder if the colder air will bring her. The changing leaves were always her favorite. You remember how sure you felt when she was there. How you were both convinced that nothing would touch you. That you would never break. 

In this city you go from one place to another underground. With her, you always flew. Or at least, you pretended to.


End file.
